Mr. Prime Minister
Page 4
I’m sticking to a formal skirt and blouse for the time being. The Prime Minister appreciated my outfit yesterday, if the constant stares were anything to go by. I’m not naïve enough to miss such obvious signs, but I am too naïve to know what to do about them. Am I supposed to play with my hair? I see women do that a lot, but whenever I do it, I end up feeling like an idiot.
There’s a familiar face at the security gate the next morning.
“Good to see you back, Janie,” Lionel says, with a genuine smile.
“Thanks, Lionel, good to see you too.”
I flash my security pass, but Lionel barely looks at it. My bag still gets searched, though, just like it did on the way out yesterday. I certainly won’t be stealing any important documents to give to Stephanie.
“Most days you’ll still need to use the back entrance I’m afraid,” Lionel says.
“When can I use the front entrance?”
“On the days when you pass my test.”
“What test?”
“You just have to answer one question. Get it right, and I’ll let you through the front door.”
“All right then. Go for it.”
Lionel purses his lips and thinks for a few moments. “Why can’t zoo animals take exams?”
“That’s not a question, that sounds like a joke.”
“Can’t it be both? I’m afraid I’m going to have to push you for an answer.”
I rack my brain for cheesy jokes, but can’t recollect any. “I give up.”
“Because there are too many cheaters.”
“That was bad,” I say. “You should escort me to the front entrance as a reward for listening to that.”
Lionel laughs loudly. “Sorry, you know the rules. Try again tomorrow.”
I’m tempted to walk over to the front entrance anyway, but the other police officers don’t look like they have Lionel’s sense of humor. I’ve lived in England for a year now, and outside of airports, I’d never seen a police officer with a gun. Now I’ve seen plenty. It’s like being back in America.
After hanging around in a corridor for ten minutes, Terrell comes and escorts me upstairs to my desk. It’s right outside the Prime Minister’s office. I’m going to be working so close to the leader of the United Kingdom, he’ll hear me slurping my tea in the morning.
A security guard is stationed near the entrance to this outer lobby. I know he’s guarding the Prime Minister, but it still makes me feel important. Like I have my own personal security detail.
“All visitors need to go through Jackson,” Terrell says, pointing to the security guard who gives me a curt nod. “If they get past him, it means they’re not a terrorist. Not one we know about anyway. From that point on, you decide who gets to go into the Prime Minister’s office.”
“How will I know who to let in?”
“Just go by the calendar. If they have an appointment, then the Prime Minister wants to meet them. Maybe ‘wants’ is a strong word. Perhaps ‘puts up with’ is more appropriate.”
“Will people listen to me?”
“Not everyone. That’s what Jackson is for. Just be confident and firm. Only three people can enter that office at any time. The Prime Minister, me, and you.”
“Me?”
“Of course. Just knock and enter. Don’t bother waiting for a reply. You’re going to be in and out so often that you’ll lose an hour every day just waiting for him to respond.”
I take another look at the door to the Prime Minister’s office. If I stare at it long enough, it begins to resemble a normal door. That’s all it is. It’s made of wood. It has a handle. There’re even signs of rust around the hinge. Then I remember what’s on the other side. It’s the UK equivalent of the Oval Office. My mind simply can’t comprehend the decisions made within those walls. It’s like trying to imagine the size of the universe—you can’t do it and end up feeling insignificant and useless.
Terrell sets me up on the computer and opens an inbox that has so many unread emails that my own email account feels organized by comparison.
“Ignore everything sent before today,” Terrell says. “I’ve been keeping a vague eye on it, and I don’t think there’s anything important in there. It’s hard enough keeping on top of the new stuff coming in. If you miss something important, they’ll resend it.”
“What do I do with the emails?” I ask. Just from a quick glance, I can tell the Prime Minister receives everything from meeting invites, charity requests, briefing papers, and even erectile dysfunction spam.
“You’ll gradually get a feel for what’s important. Make a list of everyone requesting the Prime Minister’s time and ask him if he wants to meet them. Print off memos and briefing papers. He still likes to read hard copies.”
The journalist in me would love to pour through top-secret government memos, but that’s not why I’m here. If Stephanie is right, and Wade Chambers has a secret history he’s keeping from the public, there probably won’t be government memos on the topic. The knowledge must be confined to a small group, otherwise it would’ve leaked by now.
Terrell leaves me to it, although he promises to come back later and answer any questions. I stare at the screen and watch emails come in one after the other at twenty-second intervals. There’s no way I can do this without the aid of caffeine.
I make myself a cup of coffee, and then prepare the most important cup of tea I’ve ever made in my life. If the Prime Minister doesn’t enjoy this cup of tea then I’m in trouble.
The Prime Minister isn’t in his office, so I place the tea carefully down on his desk. I can practically hear Stephanie’s voice in my head encouraging me to have a look around and see what I find. Would he really keep anything incriminating in his office? It seems unlikely. People come in and out all the time, so he wouldn’t leave anything out in the open.
In a locked drawer on the other hand….
There are locked drawers on both sides of the desk, but I can’t open them. That’s a common problem with locked drawers.
I hear Jackson greeting someone outside, so I quickly step away from the desk and head to the door.
“Janie,” Terrell says, slightly out of breath. “I completely forgot, there’s a Cabinet meeting this morning. Can you pop over and make drinks for everyone?”
Sorting out drinks orders is the easy part of the job, so I grab the Prime Minister’s cup of tea and quickly scurry over to the Cabinet Room.
Wade has a small group crowding around him, desperately trying to sneak a few words in before the meeting officially begins. He looks stressed, but he smiles the second he sees me. Or perhaps he’s just smiling at the cup of tea I’m holding in my hand.
“Good morning, Mr. Prime Minister,” I say softly.
“Morning, Janie.” He smiles again, and this time it’s definitely at me, and not the tea. “Everyone,” he says louder, “this is Janie, my new assistant. I’m sure you’ll get to know her soon enough.”
The room echoes with a chorus of ‘nice to meet you’ and other basic pleasantries. I move around the room and take drinks orders.
“I’ll have a cup of coffee, please,” the Transport Secretary requests. I’ve not memorized everyone’s names yet, but I know their positions. That will have to do for now. “No milk or sugar, and the stronger the better. Thanks.”
Most of the Cabinet members are almost obscenely polite. I’m not sure if that’s because they’re British or they want to keep in my good books to get access to the Prime Minister. The last one—Secretary of State for International Trade—manages to send me out of the room in a bad mood with just four words.
“Tea. Milk. One sugar.”
He doesn’t even look at me as he speaks. I look back at Wade, but he’s now engaged in conversation with his foreign secretary.
I head to the main kitchen downstairs to get some help with all the drinks. The small kitchen in the residence is closer, but I’ll have to boil the kettle three times and make countless trips back and forth.
The rest of the morning is spent trying to organize the Prime Minister’s calendar. He quickly gets booked up for two weeks in advance and barely has time to pee, let alone sleep. I’ve worked for busy people before, but this is another level entirely.
“How’s it going?” Terrell asks, as he leans over and looks at the draft schedule I’ve put together for the Prime Minister.
“He doesn’t have time to meet everyone he wants to meet.”
“You’re allocating people too much time with him. The Prime Minister has to make decisions quickly. Give everyone five minutes, unless they seem really important, in which case give them ten. No one gets fifteen. Not even the Queen gets that.”
“Thanks.”
The Prime Minister’s door opens and Wade walks out. Am I supposed to stand? You’re supposed to stand in the presence of the US President, so I assume it’s the same with the Prime Minister. Better safe than sorry.
“Terrell, let’s have a meeting now,” Wade says. “Janie, we’re not to be disturbed.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Oh, and you don’t need to stand. If you do that every time I leave my office, you’ll be bouncing up and down in your seat all day. You’ll have thighs of steel, but a sore arse.”
“At least I’ll be able to cancel my gym membership.”
Wade smiles, and lingers in the doorway for just a second longer than he needs to before heading into his office with Terrell.
I remind myself that he’s keeping a secret from the British public. You don’t go from being a civilian to being Prime Minister in the course of three months without a few tricks up your sleeve. I need to keep that in mind when he’s staring at me with those dark, sultry eyes.
I don’t even notice the International Trade Secretary until he’s standing over my desk. Carl something or other. I don’t know his last name, and I can’t really be bothered to learn it, considering the way he demanded his cup of tea this morning. Not so much as a grunt for a thank you either.
“How can I help you?” I ask, as sweetly as possible.
“I need to see the PM.”
“I’m afraid he’s in a meeting with the Chief of Staff,” I reply.
“If it’s just the Chief of Staff, then I can go in. This is more important.”
“He asked not to be disturbed, so I really can’t let you in.”
“You can’t let me in?” he asks incredulously, voice slightly raised. “I’m a member of the Cabinet, not a fucking tourist. Anyway, this is a scheduled meeting.”
“I had to rearrange your meeting. I did email your office and let them know.”
Carl shakes his head and walks over to the Prime Minister’s office. I look over to Jackson, but he’s talking into his radio and focusing on a disturbance at the bottom of the stairs.
“I’m sorry, sir,” I say quickly, as I scurry around the desk and block the way to the Prime Minister’s office. “You really can’t go in there right now. You have a ten-minute meeting scheduled for tomorrow morning.”
“Ten minutes?” Carl laughs, but it’s a laugh devoid of any joy. “I’m going to need at least half an hour.”
“I’m afraid you can’t have half an hour. Ten minutes really is the maximum available. The Prime Minister is very busy.”
“I know he’s busy,” Carl replies, each word getting louder. “We’re all fucking busy. Now get out of my way, or you won’t see out your first day.”
“Sir, if you could just—”
Carl mutters something under his breath, and steps forward, pushing me to one side with a strong arm. I stumble slightly on my heels, but regain my balance just as the Prime Minister opens the door.
Wade looks around briefly before yelling “What the hell is going on out here?”
Chapter Six
Wade
Only one man has the arrogance to shout and cause a scene outside my office. I couldn’t be less surprised to see Carl when I open the door.
I am surprised to see it’s Janie he’s yelling at, and not Jackson. Who yells at a secretary?
“What the hell is going on out here?” I scream in Carl’s direction.
“What’s going on is that some people need to learn their place,” Carl replies, staring at Janie the entire time.
“I couldn’t agree more.”
“Sorry, sir,” Janie says nervously, “it’s just you said you weren’t to be disturbed, so—”
“Don’t apologize,” I interrupt. Janie is standing up straight, but it’s a forced confidence. I can tell she’s nervous, but whether that’s because of Carl or me I don’t know. I turn back to Carl, who looks angry at Janie, instead of contrite and apologetic. I’ll soon change that. “You’re scheduled to meet me tomorrow. What gives you the right to barge into my office today?”
“It’s important,” Carl replies. “You’re only in there with Terrell, so—”
“So you thought you could ignore my secretary?”
“Yes, you know, what with me being a fucking Cabinet member. Last time I checked, I had more authority than the girl who makes your tea.”
I grind my teeth, and weigh my words carefully. Carl hates me, and is not exactly subtle about it. I don’t really blame him. Before I came along, he was the odds-on favorite to be party leader. If it weren’t for me, he’d be Prime Minister now. I gave him a position on the Cabinet against my better judgment, but I’m kicking him out as soon as I can get away with it.
Janie looks sheepish and embarrassed. Secretaries are supposed to be inconspicuous to the extent you forget they’re in the room. I doubt Janie has ever had two senior government figures arguing because of her.
I want nothing more than to show Carl the door right now, but I can’t sack him because of Janie. I’m sure the last thing she wants is that kind of attention. As much as it pains me, I’ll have to wait for another opportunity. Knowing Carl, it won’t take that long.
“Apologize to Janie,” I command, in a voice that accepts no argument, not even from Carl.
“That really isn’t necessary,” Janie says quickly.
“Yes, it is,” I say firmly, making sure my frustration is targeted to Carl, and not Janie.
Carl stares at me for a few seconds to make his displeasure known, but then he grumbles an apology. It’s the best I’m going to get.
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Carl.”
Carl slinks away, mumbling under his breath, and probably cursing me.
“How much longer do we need to keep him around?” I ask Terrell.
“Give it another month or so. If you sack him now, it looks bad on you. In a few months’ time, we can say he decided to step down to spend more time with his family, or some crap like that.”
“Now I feel bad for his family. Janie, are you okay?”
She looks a little shaken up, and in need of a friendly arm around her shoulder. I desperately want to be the one to comfort her, but Terrell will have a fit.
“I’m fine,” Janie replies. “I’m so sorry for disturbing your meeting.”
“You didn’t disturb my meeting; he did. Listen, I know it’s your first day and everything, but do you think you can stay late tonight?”
“Of course.”
“Thanks.”
I reluctantly head back into my office and wonder whether there’s any way I can get her to move her desk inside. She’s a much-needed distraction. Whenever I lay eyes on her, my heart rate rises, and my mind becomes consumed with inappropriate thoughts. They should be reasons enough to keep her out of sight, but being consumed with sex is far better than being consumed with the stresses of running the country. Either way, I’m going to have an elevated heart rate. I might as well have some fun at the same time.
Janie doesn’t need to be at tonight’s security briefing,
but I like having her around. I ask her to take notes, even though there’s already someone in the room paid to do exactly that.
The room is full of stuffy old white men, and Janie is a breath of fresh air. Judging by the admiring glances she gets, I’m not the only one who thinks so. When she sits next to me at the table, I briefly allow my mind to wonder back to simpler times, before I was Prime Minister. If we’d been sat this close in a bar I’d have hit on her the second her arse touched the seat.
And I’d have had her.
She’s nervous, but I know how to handle nervous women. In fact, I’m better with the quiet ones. The loud, outgoing women, often want to drag the whole flirting thing out for as long as possible. It’s like a game to them—a game I’m willing to play for sex, but not one I particularly enjoy.
However, I’m not in a bar, and my days of chatting up women over a beer are long behind me.
Janie can still hit the bars and clubs. She can still go out with friends after work and chat up guys over drinks. I can’t keep her late in the office every night. I might be the most powerful man in the country, but that doesn’t mean I get to fuck whoever I want.
“Okay, let’s get this underway,” I say reluctantly. I have regular—almost daily—security briefings, but this one is more important than most. The Defense Secretary is here and he’s brought a huge team with him, including the government’s most senior and respected intelligence officer. Zach has worked for the Secret Intelligence Service for decades and served six prime ministers. He’s probably had a more exciting career than James Bond. If he’s here, something big is going down.
“Thank you for convening this meeting at short notice,” Zach says.
“No problem,” I reply. I didn’t have much choice.
“Yesterday morning, we heard from our foreign intelligence officer in Kurtmanistan.”
Foreign intelligence officer. Fancy phrase for spy. “You said he’d gone dark.”